Sweet Dreams, Charlie
by UnseenLibrarian
Summary: Charlie's home for Ginny's wedding, and he's looking forward to sowing a few wild oats. But, Merlin's beard, are all the fields already being ploughed?


**Friday, August 25, 2000**

Charlie Weasley loved to fuck.

Contrary to popular belief and oft-repeated ribbing from his siblings, he did not like dragons more than women. He loved women and all their many curves, shapes and sizes. He'd never turned down a girl, whether she was magical or Muggle, because of the size of her breasts, or because she had brown hair instead of blonde, or because she had large hands. He loved them all, and he made sure they knew it. He was always clear about what he wanted – good, honest, no-strings-attached shagging – and he always delivered. He never left a woman without her having had at least three mind-blowing orgasms.

At 5'9", Charlie had inherited, through his mother, the barrel-chested, stocky genes of the Prewetts, but his body rippled with hard, toned muscles that bespoke of many long, hard hours wrestling with dragons. There were plenty of women in the small Romanian town near the Reserve who were happy to have a muscly British wizard warm their beds. Yes, Bill and Ron may have had the height advantage when it came to women who preferred to strain their necks when kissing their partners, but Charlie didn't give a shit. He liked being more at eye level with any woman he was shagging. Besides, it was easier to make all the parts fit together. Charlie was a considerate, enthusiastic lover and he enjoyed exploring all the varied ways of achieving climax. The _Kama Sutra_ was his favourite book, and he'd read it cover-to-cover many times over. He had all of it memorized and made great use of the knowledge.

Yes, he was quite popular with the ladies. So popular, in fact, that there were many who had tried to ensnare him for keeps. However, though Charlie may have been pants at Apparition, he was the number one expert in all forms of venereal disease prevention and contraception, both magical and Muggle.

Much to the chagrin of his mother.

Charlie stared with mixed emotions up the lane at the Burrow. It was late Friday afternoon, and Harry and Ginny were getting married the next day. Everyone was gathering at the old homestead to prepare for the festivities. On the one hand, he was glad to be home. He was looking forward to seeing family and friends, to tipping back a few Firewhiskys and homebrews with his brothers, and enjoying a shiteload of his mother's good home cooking.

On the other hand, he was home due to a sibling's wedding. He was about to face a house jam-packed with family and friends, and like last time, he was going to have to put up with his mother's nagging, not-so-subtle hints that it was high time he settled down and started a family. Merlin's beard, he was only twenty-seven. What was the all-fired rush?

He'd briefly thought about bringing along a female companion as his guest but had quickly decided against it. His mother might very well have tried to turn Ginny's wedding into a double feature if he seemed to show particular preference for any one woman.

Besides, he hadn't wanted to encumber himself. Weddings were bloody fantastic places for meeting birds. He'd felt gypped at Bill's wedding. As the Best Man, he'd had to play it safe and respectable, seeing as how he'd been paired with Fleur's Maid of Honour, her eleven-year-old sister, Gabrielle. She spoke only French and had giggled and twittered the entire time, seeing him as some sort of funny uncle. He'd been unable to shake her. It hadn't helped that the war had been on, either. His mother had watched him and the twins like a hawk the entire time, but somehow Fred and George had dodged her all-seeing eye. He'd watched with envy that evening as the two of them "disappeared into the darkness" with Fleur's Veela cousins. Lucky sods.

Ah well. He was simply the bride's brother this time around. No speech-giving duties to worry about and no obligations to play the "jolly uncle" routine to a little girl who didn't speak English. Nope, this time, he'd get to sow a few oats of his own, and he was looking forward to discovering who his bedtime playmate would be this weekend. He hadn't had sex in almost two weeks. For him, that was a long time, and he was raring to go.

It was hot and humid. He was used to heat, being around dragons, but it made him randy as hell. Lengthening his hair slightly with a spell in order to give his mother something to fret about other than his relationship status, Charlie hitched up his pack and began to whistle as he strode towards the house. It would soon be dinnertime, it was the night before the wedding, and he was hungry all over.

As soon as he'd entered his childhood home, Charlie had given his mother a giant, warm hug, let her look him all over, and listened to her alternate between admonishing him about his various tattoos, scars, and burns and exclaiming about how handsome and fit he looked. Then, the questions had begun: had he brought a guest? Was he dating anyone? Oh, would you look at that hair. Didn't anyone at the Reserve know how to use a simple Hairstyling Charm?

After the inevitable haircut, his mother had brushed him down and declared him fit for the wedding at last. Finally, she'd patted his cheek fondly and bustled off to set up picnic tables. He'd been breathing a sigh of relief when his sister bounced into the room. "Charlie!" Ginny squealed with delight and threw herself into his arms. "Nice haircut!" she said. Laughing, he swung her around, narrowly avoiding knocking over several kitchen chairs.

"You didn't think I'd miss my little sister's wedding, did you?" he asked as he twirled her. He grinned and set her down. "After all, you're marrying Harry Potter. I wouldn't miss a chance to see him up close and in person¬–" he stopped talking and ducked as Ginny punched him in the shoulder. "Ow!" He rubbed the aggrieved muscle, wincing dramatically. "Bloody hell, Gin, you can really pack a wallop! Those Harpies are teaching you some solid moves."

"There's more where that came from, you big sissy," Ginny said with a threatening tone, though her eyes were twinkling merrily. She drew her wand and waved it menacingly. "I haven't forgotten how to cast my Bat Bogey Hex, either."

Charlie held up his hands in surrender. "No thanks, a case of Bat Bogeys would not exactly endear me to the ladies tomorrow," he said. "Please forgive me. You know I'm really here to see you, Gin. Harry's a lucky man."

Harry, who'd just come down the stairs and into the kitchen, smiled his agreement as he ducked down and planted a kiss on Ginny's cheek. "I sure am," he said, pulling her close and nuzzling her neck. Charlie grinned and rolled his eyes, stepping away from the lovey-dovey couple. Watching them get physical made things stir in his blood, and there was no way he was going to think of his sister when he was horny. He needed to find someone else to focus on.

"Hey, Charlie!" came a sing-song chorus of voices from behind him, and he turned, smiling, to see the entire bikini-clad Holyhead Harpies team trekking into the house, the door slamming shut behind them. They all knew him at least in passing, since they'd overlapped in their Hogwarts years. Even the tall, dark-skinned, Amazonian beauty, Gwenog Jones, was here. She was just a couple of years older than Bill, and Charlie had had a nodding acquaintance with her while in school. She'd taken an instant liking to Ginny when his sister was recruited to the Harpies, and they were now fast friends.

Every single one of them was wet and dripping with water, having evidently been taking advantage of the nearby swimming hole. His appreciative gaze drank them in as the team surrounded him and the happy couple, all chattering about the rehearsal dinner for that evening and the wedding schedule for the next day. Each woman was toweling her hair vigorously as she talked, and breasts were jiggling everywhere Charlie looked. Yes, things were definitely looking promising.

Then the door banged again with accompanying voices, signaling that others had entered the house, and he turned to see Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet, together with Angelina Johnson, Luna Lovegood, his sister-in-law, Fleur, and Hermione Granger, all converging on the group in the increasingly-crowded kitchen. They were in their swimming costumes, too, and didn't they all look fine?

He grinned even harder, admiring all of these lovely young women, but his smile faltered a bit when the door creaked open yet again and a troop of noisy, muscular men joined the horde. He saw Bill, the twins, and Ron, along with all of the members of the Bulgarian Quidditch team.

His brothers all greeted him with enthusiasm and he happily returned the hugs, but he then watched in dismay as one by one, the men and women paired off, embracing, talking, and laughing, with heartfelt kisses being exchanged all over the place. Things were not looking as promising as they had just scant moments ago. Charlie loved to shag, but he was an honourable bloke. He would never, ever shag another man's woman – unless it was as part of a threesome or moresome, of course. Why make things hard on yourself by trying to take someone else's girl? He'd always believed there were plenty of women to go around.

When everyone sat down for dinner, Charlie realized his philosophy was proving false in this particular case. He'd been out of the loop for longer than he'd realized. Bill and Fleur were together, of course, and his mother was cuddling their one year-old baby daughter, Victoire. As she dandled the baby on her knee, she kept trying to catch his eye meaningfully, but he refused to look at her directly. Instead, he busied himself with learning the lay of the land, as it were.

Aside from Bill and Fleur, there were Fred and Angelina, and to his surprise, Luna and George were also dating. Their rabbit and platypus Patronuses were cavorting in the air above the party. Percy was with his fiancée, Audrey. Katie and Alicia had each given Charlie an appraising eye when they'd first greeted him, but then they'd eagerly cuddled up with two of the Bulgarian Chasers.

Most of the Harpies had been claimed by the other Bulgarian players, damn and blast it all. To top things off, the biggest surprise of the evening was the fact that his little brother, Ron, was apparently in an enthusiastic relationship with none other than Gwenog Jones herself. They sat next to each other at one of the tables, and every chance they got, they were snogging each other thoroughly. Well done, Ron, and all that, but, well, damn and blast again!

Charlie scanned the tables again, watching all the laughing, happy men and women while studiously continuing to ignore his mother and the baby. It was becoming harder to do so as he looked around, since his mother was sitting on the other side of his table. He'd sat at the end of the bench on one side, in case he'd have the luck to leave with a companion. Now, he likely would need to use his seat as an escape route.

Curse it, it seemed everyone there was already paired off. His biggest disappointment of the evening was that it looked like Hermione Granger had struck things up again with Viktor Krum. She was seated directly opposite Charlie, and because of the heat, she was wearing a lovely, little, white sundress with a red sash. The dress nicely showed off her lightly-tanned skin – with no tan lines, he noticed. At first, he'd kept trying to catch her eye. However, Krum was sitting so close to her that she was in danger of being pushed off the end of the bench seat, and he continually bent down to whisper in her ear. Hermione had rolled her eyes at Charlie once, near the beginning of the meal, but then had remained studiously focused on her plate. That must have been a brush-off, he'd decided, since she didn't respond to him again. She wasn't responding to Krum's sweet nothings, either, but then, Charlie's father was sitting right next to her at the head of the table. She was probably too shy to reciprocate.

That was odd, really, because earlier in the kitchen, she hadn't seemed at all shy. On the contrary, she'd left Charlie speechless when she'd walked right up and given him the best greeting of the day. He hadn't seen Hermione in the flesh except at the last two family Christmases, when everyone was bundled up in the traditional Weasley jumpers. He'd certainly never seen her in a swimsuit before. Now, suddenly there she was, wonderfully curvy and inviting, wearing a red bikini with yellow polka dots all over it. Being only four inches shorter than him, she'd easily wrapped her arms around his neck and given him a wonderfully warm, wet, and sensual hug. Her breasts had rubbed enticingly across his chest. He'd been able to feel her perky nipples through the thin tee-shirt he was wearing, and he could have sworn she'd thrust her hips purposely against his groin. The effect had been predictable. His hard-on had been immediate and painful. Then, still pressed against him full-length, she'd kissed him on the cheek, right next to his ear, and had whispered how glad she was to see him before finally, slowly, pulling away.

This was why Charlie was particularly aggravated now to see her with Viktor practically glued to her side. Hermione was seriously sexy, and he would love to get to know her better. He'd thought for sure she'd been giving him signals of interest before dinner. He had never read a woman so incorrectly before. Frustrated, Charlie stabbed his fork into a roasted potato with enough force to crack the plate. Guilty, he drew his wand and cast a murmured _Reparo_. There, good as new. His mother would never know. It wouldn't do to attract her attention.

Bloody hell, he was damned if he was going to end up being Victoire's babysitter, playing the "funny old uncle" act again. Not on a Chinese Fireball's fiery fart. He wasn't old and wanted to have some fun, be carefree, and most of all, _get laid!_

Okay. There was no need to be cranky. He believed in the power of positive thinking. So, he might not be shagging anyone tonight. On the bright side, there was a wedding tomorrow, and there would be plenty more women in attendance. He'd have much better luck, he was sure.

For now, he needed to burn off some of this pent-up energy. "I'm going for a run," he announced to the table in general and rose from his seat. Hermione looked up. "It's cooled down a bit, and I want some exercise." His eyes lingered on Hermione. He couldn't help admiring her graceful neck and bare shoulders. "It's good to satisfy one's urges," he quipped, before leaving the garden.

**Later that night**

Charlie had run for what felt like hours, all through the village of Ottery St. Catchpole and the surrounding fields. He did like to stay in shape, and he ran almost every evening at the Reserve, after his duties for the day were over. He always did his best thinking when he was running, too, and he was usually able to resolve any problems he was dealing with while jogging through the woods and hills of Romania.

It hadn't been much help this time. He was running up the lane now, as horny and frustrated as he'd been when he'd left the dinner table. He was still wearing the same shorts and tee-shirt, and he was drenched in sweat. He knew he must reek. He could see several tents set up in the field near the Burrow. The Bulgarians and the Holyhead Harpies had decided to make camp. He slowed down as he approached the front door of the house, noting that all the lights were off inside. He'd missed the actual rehearsal, it seemed, and everyone had gone to bed.

That was exactly what he'd hoped. He would have access to the shower and not have to worry about hogging the facilities. He needed a good wash, a good wank, and a good sleep, in that order.

He quietly slipped into the house and up the stairs, tiptoeing past his parents' room (he grimaced when he heard his father grunt and exclaim, "Oh, Mollywobbles!"), past the twins' room (he distinctly heard feminine giggles emanating from behind the door), and sneaking past the door to Bill's room (where he could hear the soft, rhythmic squeaks of Bill's bed, accompanied by erotic feminine gasps and moans and dirty French phrases).

Damn. That was not what he needed to hear when he was heading for an empty bed. He sighed and squeezed his now-stiff cock gently through his sweat-soaked shorts. He didn't have a thing for Fleur, but her accent was sexy as hell, and to hear her telling his brother how hard she wanted him to fuck her up the arse was a huge turn-on.

Maybe he'd have a wank first, before having a shower. He should have plenty of privacy for that in his room. His mother had happily told him he'd have the bedroom to himself for the duration of the weekend, and he'd thought at the time that that was perfect, since he'd have a place to take any female companion he met during the next few days. A few well-cast Silencing Charms and he'd be good to go.

Now, as he approached his old room, he could see a faint glow of light coming from the crack beneath the door. He stopped and stared. Gods damn it, was someone having an amorous encounter in his room? That would just take the cake. Maybe George and Fred were taking the piss; they knew how sexually frustrated he was. He was rarely grumpy, but his patience was being sorely tested tonight.

Charlie held an ear to the door and listened, but he didn't hear anything. Wait a minute – was that a moan? It had been faint, but he'd definitely heard something. He quietly turned the knob, pushed the door open, and slid inside, shutting it quietly behind him. He looked towards his bed, ready to snarl at whomever was taking advantage of his space.

His eyes opened wide, and the snarl died on his lips. There, in all her naked, golden-skinned glory, lay Hermione Granger.

Several candles floated near the ceiling, bathing the room in soft, yellow light. Hermione was lying on her back across the width of his double bed, his magical copy of the _Kama Sutra_ hovering in the air above her face within convenient reading distance. Her knees were drawn up and spread open, exposing her sex to anyone who might walk through the door. Her trademark, riotous hair was draped across the pillows she had tucked beneath her head, and one hand was cupping a breast, rolling her nipple between thumb and finger, while the other hand was between her legs. She was circling her swollen clit with her delicate middle finger, while the fingers on either side of it were caressing and squeezing her glistening pussy lips.

As Charlie watched, his mouth hanging open, Hermione slid a finger achingly slowly inside herself, moaning softly as she did so. She moaned again as she thrust the finger in and out, and Charlie's cock throbbed inside his shorts, solid as steel. He stared hungrily, watching this fantastic sight before him—a gourmet buffet—and when Hermione moaned a third time, he distinctly heard her say, "Oh, Charlie," in rhythm with her caressing, questing fingers.

Fucking hell. He wasted no time on thought or introspection. Charlie pulled his shirt off over his head in a fluid movement, tossing it aside. The room wasn't large, and in two steps, he was beside the bed. He knelt down between Hermione's legs. He was at just the right height to see all of her, spread out for his pleasure, and he took a few short moments to revel in the sight of her before leaning forward to swipe at her clit with the tip of his tongue.

The effect was electric. Hermione's strong thighs jumped and twitched as his mouth made contact with her, and she pulled her hand back as if shocked. Charlie wedged her legs open with his broad, naked shoulders and placed both of his large, freckled hands on her inner thighs. His fingers spread her sex open so all was laid bare for him to do with as he would. He tongued her erect, eager little nub again as he looked up to try to see her face. The candlelight was more than enough for their eyes to meet. Hermione's gaze positively burned with lust. She moved her hands so that both of them were pulling at and playing with her breasts, teasing and tweaking their perky tips. She was panting, and she thrust her hips upward towards him.

"Oh yes, Charlie. Please," she whispered. That was all he needed to hear. He grinned and buried his face between her thighs, licking, nibbling, tonguing, and tasting her plump, salty lips. Her scent was overpoweringly hot, so sexy and wanton. He could taste her desire for him with every lick. He could have eaten her pussy for hours. He never once stopped touching her clit. He kept his tongue circling it or his broad, thick thumb kneading and caressing it, while the rest of his fingers took turns sinking deep into her moist, clenching pussy. He lapped and suckled, her noises of delight spurring him on with every gasp.

He reveled in her feminine, musky flavour. His cock, still confined in his shorts, was throbbing with need. The ache in his bollocks was acute. Enthusiastic grunts escaped him as he ate every inch of her, making sure he didn't neglect a single millimeter of flesh. She gasped and whimpered as her excitement grew, making him lick her with increasing vigour. She moaned as he closed his mouth over her clit, sealing his lips and creating a vacuum. He began to suck, and within moments, a powerful orgasm swept through her body. She shrieked aloud, her juices covering his lips and chin as she shuddered and writhed. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair as she ground against him. She cried out his name, her climaxing muscles squeezing and pulsing around his fingers, over and over. She gradually, slowly, came down from her ecstasy, and her entire body relaxed.

Charlie lifted his head, licking his lips and grinning at her. She smiled back, looking distinctly like the cat who'd caught the canary, then she sat up, tugging at Charlie's shoulders until he stood. He noticed the lusty glint in her eyes as he looked down at her, watching her face, gauging her reaction to his body.

He could tell she was pleased. He was strong and stocky, with several burns and scars on his arms and torso. His work kept him fit, and he had just the right amount of ginger hair spread across his chest. Hermione certainly approved. She ran her fingers lightly over his pecs, making him shiver at the ticklish sensation. She circled each of his nipples with her fingertips, teasingly not touching them, before running both of her hands down his sweaty front, over his abs. He had, he'd been told, a mouth-watering "V" at his hips, which led tantalizingly out of sight into his shorts. Hermione's questing fingers zeroed in on the tattoo he had there. Orangey-yellow flames followed the shape of that vee of muscle and sinew, upwards along the dip over his pelvic bones and then around to his back. She explored the tatt with her fingers, following its path, and she snickered as Charlie twitched and wriggled under her feather-light touch.

Then, she suddenly reached for the fly of his shorts, quickly unbuttoning them and tugging down the zipper, but before she was able to pull the sweaty, clinging garment down his legs, he gently took hold of both of her wrists to stop her.

"Wait, Hermione, wait." She looked at him with questioning eyes. She'd said barely a word since he'd found her in his room, except for calling out his name in sexy, breathy cries of ecstasy. She sat silently now, wonder on her face. Her naked skin shimmered in the candle light with its own sheen of sweat. Gods, she was sexy, and he desperately wanted to shag her. But, as much as it pained him to stop, he needed to know if she was with Krum, if she was dating him or _anyone_, before going any further.

"What is it, Charlie?" she asked, in a low, throaty voice.

"What about… what about Krum, Hermione?" He surprised himself by stammering. He was braced for disappointment.

"What about him?" she asked. She seemed genuinely puzzled. Charlie's hands twitched, tightening a bit on her wrists, but she made no complaint.

"You two were awfully friendly at dinner. Are you together? I want to shag you into the mattress, but if you're already taken," he started to say, hesitantly, but stopped when he saw Hermione shaking that wonderful head of hair of hers.

"Viktor and I are not dating, Charlie. Not even close." She tugged on the two front belt loops on his shorts. "He_wants_ us to be, yes, but that ship has sailed. He was so bloody annoying at dinner. I'd hoped to spend some time talking to you." She smiled up at him. "I haven't dated anyone in ages." She winked. "In fact, I've been looking forward to… seeing you, Charlie, for quite some time." She reached over to the side table and picked up her wand. She waved it wordlessly, and he felt the familiar sensation of the very same contraception and disease-prevention spell that he himself used so frequently. Hermione tossed her wand back onto the table and pulled Charlie forward by the open waistband of his shorts. "I'm a free agent, Charlie. Now, are you going to fuck me or not?"

Charlie answered her by wiggling his hips, allowing his shorts to slide down his muscular thighs to the floor. All he wore now were his boxers, which were amusingly patterned with moving pictures of dragons chasing snitches around and around his legs and bum. He pushed Hermione back onto the mattress, bouncing up onto the bed with his knees between her legs. She giggled, hard, and lifted one of those lovely, toned legs of hers to tickle his ribs with her toes. Her toenails were red, matching the sash of the perky little sundress she'd been wearing earlier. Now, she dexterously grasped the waistband of his boxers with those painted toes and dragged them down over his hips and bum. They obliged willingly, but quickly became hung up on the prominent erection that tented the front of the shorts. Arching an eyebrow, Hermione deftly put her other foot to work, using her talented toes to grasp the tented cloth and pull it outwards, carefully but surely revealing his turgid cock to her eyes for the first time. Once his boxers had dropped to his knees, Hermione stopped and gaped at him, heedless of her legs spread brazenly open on either side of him.

His freed cock bobbed happily in the air between them, and she licked her lips as she took in the sight. Charlie smirked. He liked his dick. It was a good friend and had always been reliable and trustworthy. It was, he'd been told on countless occasions, perfect. Not too long, it was nice and thick, but not painfully so. Women loved to suck on it, especially the plum-shaped head, and no one had ever complained about his size, no matter what orifice he was plunging into at the time. He liked to think his sexual prowess had something to do with the lack of complaints, but it was good knowing he had a good set of tools at his disposal, too.

"You're gorgeous, love," he murmured. "So fucking beautiful." He was so hard for her. A bead of sticky fluid dripped from the tip to land on her navel, and Hermione quickly grasped his cock with her hot, little hand, so suddenly he gasped in surprise. She began to stroke him firmly, harder on the upstroke than the down, and she swirled her palm over the head with each pull, slicking up her hand with pre-come and wetting his shaft with it. As she sped up, caressing his bollocks with every third or fourth downstroke, his magical flaming tattoo began to heat up and flicker, as if real fire were rising from his groin.

Hermione laughed, the flames dancing in her eyes. "You're a real fire crotch, eh, Charlie?" she whispered. He nodded. With half-lidded eyes, he watched her work him over, pleasurable growls rising from his chest. "Yeah… God, yeah, just like that, Hermione," he groaned, and leaned down, his forearms on either side of her head, to capture her lips with his. She let out a whimper, opening to him and suckling his tongue. He began to pump his hips and thrust his cock through her hands. They snogged and she stroked until Charlie didn't think he could get any harder.

They were both sweating now, in the heat and humidity of the room, and the scent of Hermione's desire filled the air and mixed with his own. He had to have her. He reared back a bit, breaking off in mid-kiss, and Hermione whined in desperation. He slid his strong, freckled hands under her, grasping an arse cheek in each hand and kneading. He spread her apart as he squeezed her bum, and she helped by bracing her feet on the mattress and lifting her hips. He held her there easily, and his cockhead prodded at her dripping opening. She smelled fantastic.

"Please, Charlie. Please," Hermione moaned. "Please fuck me!" Her hands were gripping his forearms. He was happy to oblige. Holding her open, he pushed one thick fingertip against her arsehole, and she moaned at the pressure then sobbed with relief as he finally thrust into her pussy until he was fully buried inside her.

"Oh yeah! Gods, Hermione, yes," he muttered, thrusting hard and fast. He changed his angle slightly, holding her up with his hands so that he stroked over her G-spot on every pass. Their lips came together again, licking and biting and tasting each other. Hermione was squealing under him, writhing in his arms and rubbing her breasts against his chest. Her nipples were hard as diamonds.

"Charlie, Charlie, Charlie," she chanted against his lips, between kisses. Her inner walls were clutching at him, squeezing his cock as he pumped in and out. He squeezed her arse again.

"You feel so good, Hermione," he grunted against her lips. "So fucking good." He nipped and sucked at her collarbone, at her neckline, leaving a necklace of small purple love bites in his wake. He pumped his hips relentlessly, fucking her deeply with his cock. Her legs had wrapped around his, her heels digging into his bottom.

He pressed a finger insistently against her puckered arsehole, and with the copious juices of her pussy running down over it, he was finally able to slip his slippery, thick digit into her bum. He plunged his dick into her deep and hard at the same time, and just like that, she came.

"Oh my God, Charlie, I'm… yes, _yes!_" she wailed. Her pussy clamped around him, rippling and grasping at his pistoning cock as if it were her connection to life. He hadn't felt such a tight, clasping female in years, and he was so overcome by the sensation of her clinging, slick walls that he erupted into his own orgasm, shouting out her name as his seed spewed forth, hot and thick. Spurt after spurt erupted from his dick, the pleasure making him roar against her throat. He bit down, marking her again, and he felt her suddenly shudder anew, another orgasm suddenly pouring over and through her. She was sobbing and laughing, muttering under her breath even as she whimpered and moaned, squeezing him tightly with her pussy walls.

Finally, spent, the two of them collapsed flat onto the bed. Charlie rolled to one side, as he knew his bulky frame could easily crush her. He immediately pulled her against his chest. He curled protectively around this gorgeous woman with whom he'd just had some of the most fantastic sex of his life. He pushed the magical_Kama Sutra_ away from where it had been hovering overhead all this time, its illustrated pages' participants spent and snoring, and with his last ounce of strength, he drew a light quilt over the two of them. He and Hermione were sweaty, sticky, and sated, and the soft blanket would provide some protection as they cooled down. Hermione snuffled against his chest, and he looked down at her.

"You okay, love?" he asked. She nodded emphatically.

"Charlie, I am fucking fantastic." She looked up, beaming, and wriggled a bit northwards so she could kiss him. "I've never had a multiple orgasm in my life," she said. "And I intend to see if you can make that happen again for me." She lowered her mouth to his neck, leaving her own love bite evidence. "Your fire crotch tattoo is amazing," she mumbled. He could feel her smile against his neck. He stretched, practically purring.

"There's plenty more for us to do, gorgeous," he said, stifling a yawn. "I am nowhere near finished with you."

"That's good, lover boy, because I have no intentions of leaving this bed quite yet," she murmured in his ear. His heart warmed at the sound of that. She rolled over, and Charlie briefly wondered what she was doing until he heard her murmuring enchantments. He felt, once again, the distinctive tingle of the contraception and disease-shielding spell he knew so well. "Just taking precautions for the next twenty-four hours," she said. The candles dimmed and went out, the _Kama Sutra_ closed and settled itself back into his pack, and there was the slight clatter of her wand once again being placed on the nightstand. She snuggled into his side.

"Sweet dreams, Charlie," she whispered, both of them beginning to drift into dreamland. "You are officially my date tomorrow. Since Luna is Maid of Honour, I'm free to enjoy myself." She kissed his neck, softly. "I can't think of a better way to celebrate at a wedding, can you?" she asked, with a gentle chuckle.

Charlie chuckled in agreement with her, and they drifted off together into the realm of deep sleep, sweet dreams, and a promising future.

**_~FIN~_**


End file.
